


take away the dark inside, and lead me to the light.

by crystallinedewdrops



Category: DCU
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Mention of Harm to Teenagers, Non-Chronological, Pining, Survivor Guilt, no capitalization whatsoever.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 22:50:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17068667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystallinedewdrops/pseuds/crystallinedewdrops
Summary: rebirth; or, snapshots of a past life that shaped them, back when they were on the run and making homes out of abandoned places.





	take away the dark inside, and lead me to the light.

**Author's Note:**

> this started out as a series of prompts and somehow it became 4k of character introspection, me describing scenery, and apollo being a gay disaster. no word in this fic is capitalized, by the way.
> 
> please be aware that at the beginning of the fic there is mentions of brutality / harm done to a teenager, and theres a whole lot of survivor guilt, graphic and mentioned.
> 
> beta'd, but any grammar mistakes are mine !!

**_i._ **

there is something about abandoned places that are overtaken by nature, with vines growing all over the walls and inside the broken, decrepit buildings; roots breaking through concrete and ground, years-old trees as tall as towers and twice as strong, offering a home to animals and a refuge from the sun in the hot summers. the air is cool, not that cold, though one could see the fog in the distance obscuring some of the buildings of the town. it's a sharp, haunting contrast to the otherwise peaceful atmosphere of the place, a reminder that glaringly says, “this place is haunted. it has been abandoned.” almost like a neon sign.

like a warning.

they have been traveling for god knows how many hours now, could be days really. the only way they knew what day was is by sunrise and sunset, but they are robbed of that here; there are heavy clouds that hide the sun away, adding to the ever-growing feeling that says they have stepped into a time bubble, that they are now between reality and a doorway to somewhere else. with what they have been through in the past year, apollo wouldn't be all that surprised if his feeling turned out to be true.

there is a field of small lilac flowers to his left, and as both him and midnighter walk further into the town, they come upon patches of wildflowers and other herbs scattered here and there in a random pattern. apollo won't pretend that he doesn't notice how the flowers sway slowly towards him, longing for the sun which its been robbed of because of the clouds. something deep inside of him breaks at the thought, because he understands what that feels like more than anyone else.

in the distance, the fog grows heavier, falling over and moving through the taller buildings and mountains. overhead, thunder rumbles. looks like it will be storming today, that's a pity because apollo would have liked to stay outside.

when evening fell and the clouds opened up, apollo and m found themselves hiding in one of the more stable buildings from the pouring rain. they sit on the dusty, dirty floor in silence, just listening to the storm outside. even here, there are vines and the occasional flowers in places they shouldn't have been.

“how gothic.” m broke the silence, looking through the broken window at the scenery outside of their little hideout. he's turned away from him so apollo can't tell what his expression is, but his posture is relaxed. like a heavy weight has been lifted from him. “it fits the dramatic feeling of the place,” apollo shrugged, lying down on the floor, mindless of the dust and vines and whatever else is on the ground beneath him. closing his eyes, he focused his senses to midnighter's twin hearts, his breathing and steady heartbeats, the rain outside, the slight movement of the grass in the wind. a calming rhythm that he finds himself listening to as his mind drift.

somehow, in some way, this is the first time he feels at peace.

apollo stirs from his not-quite sleep, eyes only halfway open, to find a weight on top of him. it isn't suffocating, but it is warm, comforting. opening his eyes fully now, it is night from what he can see from the broken windows, clear moonlight filtering through but it is not enough to light up the entire place. apollo looks at the weight on top of him only to find, from what he can feel with his hands, that it's m's leather coat; glancing around he finds the man himself not that far from where he is, lying on his side with his back to apollo.

unbidden, a smile blooms on his face. midnighter never liked anyone touching him, his trust is something hard to earn. and now, with his back to apollo and without his coat to hide or protect him, m might as well have said that he trusts apollo. silently scooting closer but remaining a respectful distance away to give m his space, apollo covered both himself and m with the leather coat, it's long enough that it is easy to do if he positioned it horizontally instead of vertically.

the storm is quieting down from what he can hear, but the rain remains still. gentle, now, instead of hammering down like it was when they got inside.

apollo closes his eyes once more, and falls asleep to the gentle rhythm of the rain and m's steady breathing.

 

**_ii._ **

love crept up on him without him noticing it. he cannot pinpoint the exact moment it happened, one minute he was thinking about something so mundane, so normal, and the next he felt this surge of affection towards the man beside him.

he does not know for how long he has felt this way towards m. what he does know is that the thought of spending the rest of his life with m, what it would be like to wake up next to him — which is a weird thought since he has woken up with m's head on his shoulder, or him resting close by plenty of times before, but this time it would be more intimate or…  _ something  _ he doesn't know what it is — and being domestic with midnighter, holding him and dancing to songs in an apartment with him, is dizzying and overwhelming but it isn't bad. these thoughts make him feel things he never felt before, or maybe he did but doesn't remember. it's hard to tell.

he thought of what it would be like to kiss him. that particular line of thought always catches him off guard, makes him look away with his face heated up and a strange fluttering feeling in his chest, a smile on his face that he tries to hide. a part of him wants to do it, to cradle m's face in his hands and kiss him gently, softly; to make what he feels for the other known. but he doesn't do it. doesn't mean he will stop thinking about it.

love crept up on him in slow almost-lazy waves of affection that ended up overwhelming him. but it wasn't bad… if anything, it was peaceful. apollo doesn't bother pinpointing the moment he fell in love because, he thinks, he might have always been in love with midnighter.

 

**_iii._ **

the first time they went out of their way and save someone, it was during the winter. it wasn't something they even discussed doing, they just did it. they brought the poor kid to some cabin in the woods so that they wouldn't die in the blizzard outside.

it wasn't the first time they came into contact with a human, but it's the first time they directly interfered and saved a dying kid. midnighter told him the reasons why it's too dangerous to stop for even a while, and while apollo agreed with him, he couldn't just leave the kid in the cabin, shivering and on death's doorsteps.

so apollo searched for any medical supplies that possibly — hopefully — could be just lying around untouched. the cabin itself is old and there is a layer of dust on everything, the couch and small bed don't look all that good so both of them cleared it up as much as they could and only then did apollo got to patching the kid up.

he forgot he doesn't know that much of medicine so he got m to help him through it. ( that was the first time midnighter ever used the computer inside his brain to do something good. )

the kid woke up just a bit after the blizzard has passed. apollo flew the lost teenager somewhere that is close to where their home is, and then left.

the second time they helped someone it was a little act of kindness. the third time it was beating up people that felt entitled to something they are not.

it continued like that for about a week, until apollo and m both realized that's what they wanted to do with their lives.

leave the world better than they found it.

 

**_iv._ **

“i'm getting pretty tired of eating pizzas.”

“can't get anything else. and it isn't like we need to eat it anyway, we can survive without it. without sleeping too.”

“yeah, but i like doing it. it feels really nice, you should try it some time instead of looking out of windows and brooding the night away.”

“i'm not brooding.” midnighter didn't deny that it felt nice.

a huff of a laughter. “right. if you write whatever you're musing about down on some paper, i'm pretty sure you could become like those fancy novelists from the 18th century. all dark and gloomy.”

a judgemental glare with no heat behind it is met with a blinding and mischievous smile.

midnighter goes back to staring out of the window and into the streets. a beat of silence that stretched between them; it wasn't uncomfortable or tense, apollo is used to this by now.

this is practically what they do for entertainment these days, talk about nothing consequential; bickering playfully about this or that. it's nice, takes the edge of the stress off. apollo leaves some pieces of the pepperoni and cheese pizza to m.

for all of his grumbling and cynicism, he knows that he does it for the same reasons apollo does: to feel normal, even if for just a few seconds. they don't remember their life from before — and every time apollo brings it up it just invites unwanted feelings that ruin the mood for both of them, leaving them with a heavy weight inside of their bones and stomachs that drags them down. making them both feel guilty and tired.

when it happens, when they do remember how they left their teammates behind to die, it makes things worse for them. they don't fight, not really, but it's damn close to it with midnighter telling him the odds and probabilities, and apollo adamantly refusing to listen because  _ it was his fault they died _ is a thought that never leaves his head.

so apollo tries not to think about it because he hates those feelings. he hates those thoughts even more; he just wants to pretend for a while that everything is ok.

( fake it until you make it, right? )

 

**_v._ **

“it isn't your fault. what happened back there was not your fault. bendix did not give us enough information–”

“so what?!  _ so what?! _ they still died under my command because i was too blind and stupid not to see it for what it is! they died because of  _ me _ ! it doesn't matter that bendix never told us anything about our mission or what we'll face there, what matters is that they all died _ because of me _ , midnighter!”

“would you listen to me for a second?  it matters because it isn't your fault it happened. i know you, apollo, you'd have done everything you could to save them if you knew what was down there. it matters because  _ he  _ did this  **to us** . it matters because now we're his worst enemies.”

“they still died. you're right, i could have saved them but instead i was a coward… i could have done  _ something _ …”

“if i couldn't do a single thing aside from either save you and myself or die with the rest of them, what could you have done? trust me when i say this, there was no way you could have helped them. i saw it happen in multiple ways and all the possibilities led to the same inevitability. so tell me, what could you have done if i couldn't do anything?” then softly, gently, “it is not your fault, apollo.”

 

**_vi._ **

there are certain signs of trust with midnighter, apollo have always known that. ever since they knew each other, the black-clad man was always tense, fists tightly clenched and ready for any kind of fight; it's the computer in his brains, he knows this, because m is forced and trained to see everything as a threat.

so he wasn't all that surprised when he learned midnighter doesn't like it when people touch him, heavily clothed as he is, or even look too long and hard at him. it made him paranoid and apollo doesn't need a confession from the man himself to see it; it's there in the way he holds himself, the way he talks and acts around anyone that isn't apollo. hell, even around apollo he doesn't really relax, and they've known each other for a long while now.

the first sign of trust that midnighter showed him was when he touched him the first time, without the gloves to hide the scarred, rough hands; it was just a fleeting moment, where midnighter reached over and touched apollo's bare shoulder to get his attention. at the time, they were resting in some abandoned building that they broke into, in the slums of a city that has never seen the sunlight due to the rain and heavy gray clouds. they made it a habit to not stay in one place for too long, even if it's in the same city.

midnighter's hands are cold, rough and calloused from years of training and the experimentation that replaced his muscles with carbon fibre. some of the scars from the multiple surgeries are still visible on his hands.

it could have been nothing, apollo could have shrugged that little gesture off as nothing, but he knows that it was not nothing. it's a sign from a man who doesn't trust anyone, little as it is, but it's still something. apollo decided to keep it close to his heart as the first time midnighter had willingly shown a part of himself to him.

there are other signs, of course: the time midnighter felt safe enough to sleep in apollo's company, with his head on his shoulder as if it was too heavy for him to lift it up, snuggled up close for the warmth that apollo radiates naturally. but even when he's asleep, m is still wound up, rigid beside him with a frown on his face and the jaw clenched tightly; a man who looks tortured. ( there is something that constricted inside apollo's chest when he first saw that look, and he thought,  _ i want to protect this man, to make him the happiest he will ever be _ . )

there was also the time when midnighter had first worried about him. gave him an earful about his solar reserves and  _ never do that again, you idiot _ . it was, perhaps, the first time midnighter has ever trusted him enough to show an emotion around him; m was always closed off, unapproachable, calculative, but that was possibly the very first time midnighter had shown an emotion that isn't stoic or serious or cold, but instead worried and fretful. caring.

apollo wanted to kiss him, back then. to reassure him that he wasn’t going anywhere, that he won't ever leave him. he didn't, instead he just smiled ruefully and told him that _it was the only way_ _to take those fuckers out._ it didn't really do so much in the line of comforting midnighter, but it at least made him stare at apollo for a while, long enough for apollo to really look at him; he was surprised by how long the walls around midnighter came down, enough for him to see every emotion flicker through his eyes, before the guarded look and the walls and layers came back up and m shut himself away.

it couldn't have been more than just a few seconds, but for apollo it was enough to know that m cared about him.

 

**_vii._ **

there are times when midnighter would show emotions, times when his feelings slip through the cracks and be seen by anyone.

at this point, apollo knows his tells, what m's feeling about one thing or another — he wouldn't all everything because even after two years together, it's still hard to fully read him, but apollo knows him well enough by now to know his feelings about certain things.

avoidant and closed off when he doesn't want to talk about some things, or a certain  _ something _ , hiding behind posturing and nonchalance.

welcoming and open when he wants to be perceived as non-threatening to this or that person; usually, it's kids. apollo feels a strange fluttering whenever he catches sight of midnighter holding on some child they rescued, or sitting with his back to a wall with some strays around him, a kitten or two brave enough to venture close enough to him.

( it's not the first time he felt like that. whenever he sees adboards with a man and a woman in caught in a kiss, he would cant his head to the side and imagine what that'd be like. for some reason, it's always a man he sees in those daydreams, and always one very specific man. apollo would bring himself from those daydreams, his face ablaze and red and the fluttering feeling is  _ there _ .

he feels it even when he's not thinking about the kissing. and it's always,  _ always _ whenever he thinks midnighter in any sort of way.

it isn't bad or terrifying or anything like that, it's peaceful because it's not the blinding rage or the confusion of responsibility or the crushing guilt, it's really nice actually, if just a little distracting at times. )

humorous and sarcastic when he's bantering with apollo about whatever consequential thing he thought of or said, like when apollo had said that he should be a novelist. little things they like doing because they  _ do _ , because it makes them feel normal.

sitting on the edge of the rooftop, feet dangling off the side and swinging idly, looking at the large adboard on the high-rise building across the street from him. the ad is about some kind of perfume or another, and yet for some strange reason the picture is of two people holding each other in what looks like a near kiss, the colouring is muted and beige. it's two men, this time.

it's night, the stars aren't visible from where he is due to the bright lights of the city. from where he's sitting, apollo can hear cars honking and people going to wherever they need to go. the city's alive at night.

not for the first or second or even the fortieth time in two years, apollo thinks of what it'd be like to do that with midnighter. that feeling is back, hitting him like a freight train and apollo feels himself get dazy, with his heart hammering like a hummingbird inside his chest; with his face probably, possibly redder than a ripe tomato, apollo puts his head in his hands and groans.

“you ok?”  _ oh god _ , apollo momentarily panics because he would know that voice, smooth and just this side of deep, anywhere. ( he would know the man the voice belongs to anywhere, even in his dreams. )

“yeah, i'm fine.” he prays to any deity that is listening to him that midnighter doesn't notice how shaky his voice is. he hears a grunt and clothes shifting, then feels the body temperature of the man who haunts his rosy daydreams. “you sure?” apollo can only nod, face still hidden in his hands, because frankly he really doesn't trust his voice now.

thankfully midnighter leaves it at that but he can still feel him staring.

then he notices the smell of food, which is literally the only reason apollo actually looks up. turns his head around and sees a white plastic bag with three squares, black and green and red, with  _ burger king _ written across. opening the plastic bag reveals brown paper bags.

“burgers?”

“someone was kind enough to buy them for me. there's some french fries there too.” beneath the nonchalance, apollo can hear the embarrassment and something else too. he doesn't look at him and instead just hands him one of the burgers and gets the other for himself, then eats one of the fries he finds.

the noise he made  _ is  _ embarrassing and shouldn't have been made in the first place just because he ate one delicious french fry and apollo closes his eyes, mentally beats himself for it.

“you sure you're ok?” there is concern and amusement in midnighter's voice now, and really can the ground just swallows him please because it'd be infinitely better than dealing with whatever's this  _ feeling  _ is that makes him feel embarrassed and do embarrassing things and be generally awkward around the other man.

“just peachy.” he manages to mutter, tearing the wrapping of his hamburger and starts eating it, still resolutely not looking at midnighter. “did they pay for this?” apollo gestures at the bags around them, and from the corner of his eye he sees m nodding, then his eyes stray towards his lips, then throat, and it takes everything in his power to look away from him.

his mind isn't so kind to him because now it makes him imagine what it'd be like, to kiss his chapped lips, to feel that throat under his own lips, to feel that body, muscled and us coiled with tension under his wandering hands—

ok, that's a new one. it was usually just  _ kissing _ .

his brain is a traitor.

he was so caught in his thoughts that he missed what midnighter says and now there is only silence, broken up only by the life far below them. apollo finished his food and threw the wrapping in the white plastic bag, trying to solve the puzzle that is his feelings about midnighter.

the silence isn't awkward, thankfully. he doesn't know what to do if it was.

midnighter was almost like a statue beside him, not moving or making a sound, breathing evenly and looking ahead of him. not at the board, not at anything in general. sneaking glances at him, apollo stapled his fingers together and let his lips curve into a small smile. _ like a teenager with a crush _ .

oh.

_ oh. _

then it hits him, what this feeling is. apollo takes a deep breath to mask his gasp.

“you ever think about being in love? in a relationship?” he asked, voice just a little bit quiet, loud enough for midnighter to hear. heart's beating too fast, and beneath his white gloves he can his palms become sweaty. still refusing to look at midnighter.

silence. then he hears the sound of leather shifting. “yes.” the way midnighter says it, softly, almost like a whisper, and thick with emotions. apollo looks at him,  _ really  _ looks at him, only to find m staring back at him; the way he answered contradicts the way he is looking at him, and he remembers that midnighter has never known what to do with his emotions.

( the many times apollo watched him, quiet, as midnighter raged on, fists colliding over and over again with alabaster walls and wooden doors, then held him after is a testimonial to that. )

swallowing, apollo feels like his heart is slowly climbing from his rib cage to his throat, like it wants to escape. nodding once again, “it's a nice thing, isn't it?”

“is that why you're acting like that?”

“well…” apollo trails off, one hand coming up to sheepishly rub the back of his neck, still smiling and looking at midnighter. “it isn't that bad, really. it's nice, actually. peaceful, in a certain way that most of our life hasn't been. just something i like to think about sometimes,” chuckling, apollo shrugged his shoulders. he's never been this nervous before, not really… not like this. he explains his feelings more, using one hand to gesture while the other slid from his neck to that area between the shoulder and the neck. belatedly, apollo realizes that he's rambling.

“apollo, shut up,” and that was the only warning before he was grabbed by the front of his costume and for just a fraction of a second he felt fear. fear that he would fall from the precarious position he's sitting in.

the lips he had been daydreaming so much about touches his own, and the position is awkward, really but he's being kissed by the very person he's been in love with for two years. cradling m's face in his hands after a second of hesitation, apollo tilts his head a bit to the side and kisses back, eyes closing on their own.

it's… not something he can really describe, but he does it again and again, even with the smile breaking across his face, because he doesn't want to stop doing it.  _ i love you _ .

 

**_viii._ **

they have been on the run for two years now. apollo knows this because midnighter told him, and he did see the new years celebrations from all over the country; it's hard to miss it, really, with flashing lights of firework in the sky, their booming sounds reaching his ears even when he's far away from it.

two years, five months, six days. that's how long they have been running for their lives, looking over their shoulders at every twitch and breathe. it's night, now, and they're staying in some run-down house in some abandoned mining town that has seen better days — the minute he laid eyes on it, he couldn't help but think that perhaps this is where ghost stories come from. places that death passed on its way, killing or making everyone run away from, and nature took over.

not for the first time, apollo wonders about what his life was like before everything that happened, and not for the first time he feels this deep longing inside his heart for a place he doesn't know if it exists anymore, not in his memories and not in this life.

they don't need to sleep. apollo stares at the ceiling of the dark, depilating place. not for the first time he feels a kinship with abandoned places such as these because he, too, is a shell of his past self; he can hear the creak and groan of the house, old wood settling, and thinks of the human body in its old age and bones. with a bit of a self-deprecating smile, apollo thinks that perhaps he is the broodier, gloomier one of them and wonders when did he get like that.

he hears the sound of midnighter shuffling and then growling a few ways away from him, on some old dusty couch. hears a huff of breath and then silence except for the noises and ticks from the old house. apollo closes his eyes and tries to sleep, but the memory of that incident at the underground facility is burned into the inside of his eyelids and he hears them again, the screaming and running.  _ failure,  _ his mind tells him and apollo accepts it as the truth.

he is tired of fighting against it.

he opens his eyes and with what little bit of light from outside and his halo, he can see midnighter sitting beside him, legs crossed in a lotus position. staring at apollo with that unreadable, impassive expression.

apollo wonders what he's thinking of, with him lying on the ground, arms wrapped loosely around his midsection like he's hugging himself. the most unguarded position he has ever been in.

“it's going to be sunrise, soon.” midnighter breaks the silence at last, his voice whispering as if he's afraid of waking years-old ghosts that haunt this town. ( year-old ghosts that haunt their every waking hour and sleepless night. )

apollo exhales and nods. “how long?”

“twenty minutes from now.”

he gets up from where he was lying and makes his way outside, a few minutes away from the town and towards one of the cliffs that protects this valley. it's silent here, with not even a bird's sound; the grass and the tree branches move softly, lazily, with the twilight's breeze.

the sky, painted in muted purples and blues, is cloudless and full of stars that can be seen this far away from any city lights. apollo thinks of the silence all around him, and the steady beats of his heart, looking over the horizon with his muscles tense as if ready for a fight, or for something far more than that.

the sun rises, changing the colours of the sky from muted purple to baby blue, soft oranges and yellows colours the grass around him, sun rays reaching him and he can feel his cells come alive with renewed energy; as if he just came alive from the dead. apollo releases a breath he was holding subconsciously, staring as dawn breaks and a new day begins. so serene.

at that moment, he realizes multiple things all at once.

life gave both him and midnighter a second chance to live, to breath, to have more than just  _ this _ . a hope he never felt before, and only realized how much he needs it now.

his significance, the changes he can make, he can _do_ , with his powers.

( rebirth. )

  
  
  



End file.
